


Touched by an Angel

by FantasyPrincess, PrincessOfTheDark (FantasyPrincess)



Series: Angels and Demons: How do they work? [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Desparate!Crowley, M/M, No Betas We Fall Like Crowley, Patient!Aziraphale, things i didn't know i wanted, touch starved, wing play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-10-20 17:24:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20679116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasyPrincess/pseuds/FantasyPrincess, https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasyPrincess/pseuds/PrincessOfTheDark
Summary: Crowley didn't realize how much he liked being touched by Aziraphale when they made the swap back and now he wants more.*This is 10 chapters long. I've decided to add it to a series so I can continue to write one shots within the timeline here. Enjoy!





	1. Fidgeting

If the last six thousand years had been any indication, Crowley, the Demon, generally speaking, between friends, had never been, nor ever was, a fidgeter. He just wasn’t the type. Sure, he would occasionally stumble over his words, or shift his weight oddly, but his hands, for the most part stayed put. What the principality Aziraphale noticed, as they celebrated the continuation of the earth’s existence, toasting their roles in thwarting Armageddon, was that the Demon Crowley was, most certainly, fidgeting.

His hands were tapping the table, or running through his hair. Never at peace for the entirety of their meal. “Crowley?”

“Hmm?” he said, twirling his spoon betwixt his index and thumb.

“Is everything… I don’t mean to be, well, it’s just that, are you alright?”

“Right as rain, Angel.” He put down the spoon

Aziraphale ate another bite of his strawberry tart and, once the scrumptious flavors released him, he dabbed his lips with his napkin. “It’s just that… Well, you seem to be restless, my dear. Are you quite sure?”

"I'm fine, Angel." He reached his hand across the table and gently brushed his fingers over Aziraphale's knuckles. 

"Good, that's good." He smiled, and turned his hand over, palm up. He clasped Crowley's offered hand, gently.

*

_Angel, are you free - I thought we could go to the Ritz?_

"Yes, I'd like that very much." Aziraphale instantly brightened on the phone. "Just let me close up shop."

Crowley was already at their table, and he stood when Aziraphale arrived, holding the chair for him. Aziraphale looked at him, curiously, but inclined his head. “Well, thank you, dear” and sat down. Crowley put his hands on the angel’s shoulders, giving them a little squeeze. “What’s the occasion?”

“Occasion?” Crowley asked, leaning into his own seat.

“Yes, it’s been a week. Something like that, for us, is a bit sudden, isn’t it?”

“Not sure what you mean, Angel,” and Crowley proceeded to order for them.

It became a regular occurrence for that entire month. However, Aziraphale couldn’t help but notice… Crowley was still fidgeting.

*

“I can’t help it.” Aziraphale said, looking at him keenly before reaching over to him and “Stop it, please,” stilling the demon’s hands with his own. “W-won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

Crowley flinched briefly. “Well, now that you mention it,” Crowley starred at their joined hands. “I had been trying to remember something.” Aziraphale removed his hands, clearing his throat. He took another drink of his wine, but gestured that Crowley go on. “You know, before the whole Armageddon thing, I was trying to remember the last time someone, uh, that is, voluntarily, before the swap, well, wanted to,” and he pulled his hands back to this lap, “Not that it was unwanted, but surely, after all this time, why would it matter, why would it be different…” he sighed, and snapped.

Time around them stopped.

Aziraphale’s eyebrows raised. “Now Crowley, really, what could possibly warrant _freezing time_?”

Crowley took another whiskey gulp himself. “I can’t recall the last time someone…” Crowley took off his glasses and his face scrunched up. “The last time that someone…” and he leaned further forward and murmured, “touched me.”

Aziraphale looked at him, slowly blinking.

“You and I, the swap. The… Well, the…” and Crowley reached forward, his hand hovering over Aziraphales’, but he put it down back on his side.

“O-oh,” Aziraphale gasped.

“Yes, very much indeed, ‘_o-oh,’” _Crowley put his glasses back on. He restarted time. The waiter came by with another bottle of single malt and another crème brulee for his companion.

Aziraphale took the dessert and picked up his spoon, a little hesitant. “I’m afraid I’m still not sure what that _means_,” he said, giving the crust a tap. “So it’s been a while, has it? You make it sound so … ” He interrupted himself with a taste of dessert and Crowley’s mirthful eyes were safely behind his glasses.

“I didn’t think it would be _so_, not at first.” Crowley said, lolling his head from side to side, pouring himself another glass. “But I’ve been doing some reading and –”

“_Really_?”

“Shut it,” Crowley said, fighting a smile.

Aziraphale’s eyes still teased, but he nodded quietly.

“Anyway, it got me thinking. I’ve not been touched too many times in the last six millennia. Even before that, Angels aren’t the touchy-feely type, are they?” Aziraphale made a face and Crowley nodded. “In any case, this vessel was, uh, I believe the term is ‘touch starved.’”

Aziraphale was enjoying his dessert and made a pleasant little _hmm_ sound.

Crowley groaned, “Never mind, Angel. It’s just something new. I don’t know where it comes from, but at first it was … unpleasant?”

“Unpleasant, how?”

Crowley starred at the ceiling, stuttering, unable to land on a word at all.

“Well, is there something missing from the transfer? Perhaps I did it wrong?”

“N-N-No, it was perfect Angel, exactly as we’d planned.” Crowley groaned and gave a stretch. “And I’m grateful, y’know, not getting destroyed has been the highlight of my century, but…”

“Well then what is it like?” Aziraphale watched as Crowley struggled with the words. He opened the bottle of liquor and poured himself a generous bite, which he downed rather quickly. “Oh! See, I did hurt you!” Aziraphale worried his napkin, the very picture of concern from around the 1860s.

“It _wasn’t_ you, Angel.” Crowley shook his head, and gesticulated with his hands. “Aren’t I the type of Demon that would have told you if it was?”

Aziraphale looked even more confused, bless him. 

“I think I’m just not used to it, y’know.” Crowley took several deep drinks and his sibilant “s” became far more pronounced, but he pressed on. “S’Been jussst tha’ it’s been a rather long time, so long I can’t remember. It wasss like…” he seemed to search for the word across the room. “It’s like, ye, remember during the flood? Just before the rainbow – there was lightening?” Aziraphale nodded, although his napkin was in a terrible twist about his middle. “So you feel it, righ’? You feel it in your wings before it happens, and then, it cracks the sssky open, and you feel that crackle all the way up your spine?”

Aziraphale blinked at him, poised for another bite of dessert, but pausing. It would seem that the worrisome nature of the conversation was not having an effect on his appetite. “I vaguely recall something like that. I still feel it sometimes, when the thunder is at it’s most intense. Like a spark.”

Crowley stomped the table, “Yea, yea, tha’s it. Like a ssspark up your sspine. I didn’ like it then, I dun’ like it now.” He took another drink.

Aziraphale dabbed his mouth, and offered his hand. Crowley took it, but his face didn’t give him away. “Every time?”

“Yea, every time.”

“You know, Crowley. I think you’re right. I think you’re just not used to this.” Aziraphale gently rested his hand there, unmoving, and took another bite of dessert. Once done, he said, “D’y’know, I think we can do this more often, if you’d like? I find it surprisingly pleasant.”

Crowley starred at the angel, and nodded, sheepishly taking his hand back. “Thank you.”

“Not at all.”


	2. Move On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale wants to move forward, but Crowley's being a bit stubborn.

Another month passed. They'd gotten very lucky with the weather, and were able to spend most days in St James Park, feeding ducks. Aziraphale offering, and Crowley accepting, clasped hands as they walked. 

"Isn't this pleasant?" Aziraphale asked, his cheeks rosy from the sun.

"I'm a first-rate demon, Angel." Crowley grumbled. "I'll not be led around like some toddler who needs help crossing the street."

Aziraphale observed his companion’s happy glow, and started to make a comment, but against it. "Is it already beyond you? Shall we move on?"

Crowley was staring at their hands. "Move on?" 

"I've been looking into what it means to be touched starved. With humans, it's all very personal, but it's typically not allocated to only one spot. We should touch other places, I think."

"I didn't say, that is, if you want to, I could be -"

"What is it _you_ want?"

Crowley stopped walking and looked up at him. "This is fine, as is."

"… A moment ago, you didn't even want this."

"No, no that wasn't it. I just meant I'd gotten… I'm good now, I think, this is enough."

He huffed. "Really?" Crowley nodded. "Right, so if I did this," and Aziraphale moved his thumb in small circles, massaging Crowley's hand. The demon visibly tensed. "No change? Your perfectly fine?"

"Ahh, yep, yea." Crowley said, hoping somehow the angel couldn't see the goose flesh on his arms.

Aziraphale pursed his lips. "Well, surely then this," and he brushed his fingers over Crowley's arm, with just enough skin around the wrist for him to get contact. Crowley recoiled. Aziraphale grabbed at his jacket, solidly giving him an embrace. "I'm sorry, I got carried away. Are you alright?" Crowley breathed slowly, his forehead on the Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Was it like the lightening again?” The demon nodded, but mumbled something into his coat. “What was that?”

“Different … Hard say.” He pulled back to look at Aziraphale, and his eyes glazed over.

“Are you quite well?”

“Not sssure, I feel a, nng, b-bit… off?” He tried to untangle himself from Aziraphale, but instead over compensated, teetering comically close to the ground.

Aziraphale hurried them both over to a bench where he could lay Crowley out. “Well, if that’s going to happen, maybe we best do this somewhere safer. Bookshop?” he asked, hopefully.

Crowley nodded. Very suddenly, the bench he was sitting on became the chaise at A. Z. Fell and Co, a glass and a small dark bottle was already next to him on the small end table. “I’m fine, Angel,” he called, but Aziraphale ignored him.

He walked straight back to his little lavatory, retrieving a washcloth and, after running it in some warm water, brought it back for Crowley, placing it over his forehead. “I don’t need you to fuss, Angel.” He said, but then he grasped at it and gave a pleasant little sigh.

Aziraphale gave a satisfied nod, and pulled over a chair. Suddenly, another glass was there and he was filling it to take a sip. “Better?”

Crowley grumbled, but nodded again.

“The words, please dear.”

“I’m better, Aziraphale.” He said, moving the clothe to his cheeks. “Not entirely sure what that was.”

“Looked like subspace to me,” Aziraphale mumbled deep.

“What was that?”

“S’nothing!” his smile was back in place, “Have some port, my dear.”

Crowley took the glass carefully, and slowly drank half. “That’s the stuff.” He smiled at Aziraphale. “OK fine, you’ve made your point. Where would you like to touch me,” his face all grin.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “No, today I think we rest. You’ve had, um, quite the ordeal.”

Crowley pouted, but nodded. “You might be right. Took more out of me then I thought. Mind if I stay over?”

“The beds already made,” Aziraphale said, smiling broadly.

Crowley took another sip and stood up. “I’ll manage, thank you Angel.” Aziraphale nodded, making a show of opening his ledgers and putting on his glasses.

*

In the morning, Crowley felt more rested than he had in an age. He stretched and rolled himself over onto his stomach, scratching at his back. “I can’t believe he never sleeps,” he muffled into the pillow.

“I’ll have you know that I’ve slept when the occasion required it.”

Crowley scrambled up to the top of the bed, panting. “Angel! You know what they say about startling a snake.”

Aziraphale smirked, he was as the demon had left him, all buttoned up. He apologized, and gave the box in his hands a little tap. “I’ve brought some chocolates I thought you’d like.”

Crowley’s coked his head to the side. “Chocolates?”

Aziraphale nodded, presenting the box in his hands with a little shake. “You were quite piqued yesterday. Thought your vessel could use a pick me up.”

Crowley smiled. “How thoughtful of you, Angel.”

He scooted down to the foot of the bed and reached out, but Aziraphale held them aloft, licking his lips. “My dear, I’ve had a thought. How do you feel about some positive reinforcement while we experiment?”

Crowley frowned. “In what way?”

“Well, that is, uhm, what if I fed these to you for jobs well done after successful touches?”

Crowley’s mouth hung open, “Yes!” he said quickly. He cleared his throat. “I mean, if you think that will help.”

“Can I remove your glasses?”

Crowley hesitated but then gave a small nod and sat up straight and patiently waited. Aziraphale was gentle, it was a small brush of feather light fingers, coming to unmask him. And he let it happen. Somewhere in the back of his snake brain, he vaguely wondered what Hastur would say, but then Aziraphale let his hand lingered on his temple, “oh,” while the other laid them on his nightstand.

“There,” he said, smiling proudly. “Not so bad.”

“Mmhm,” he said, closing his eyes, forgetting for the moment that he was without his ocular protection. They shot open. “I mean, it doesn’t sting. Strange, idn’t?” Aziraphale smiled warmly. If he noticed Crowley’s abandon, he wasn’t commenting on it. His hand moved down to caress Crowley’s cheek. The pads of his fingers and palm were so soft. Crowley swallowed. “Angel,” he whispered.

“Yes, my dear.” Crowley’s face scrunched up again, frustrated. “No words for me?” Aziraphale coaxed. The demon gave his head a shake. Aziraphale wasn’t going to punish him for it, but all the same, he leaned forward. “Would you mind if I kissed yo–”

“Yes! I mean, no! Please!” He said, again too quickly. He didn’t move though, he made Aziraphale close the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... In this chapter, Aziraphale knows what subspace is... and I'm just looking at myself in the mirror trying to understand what I've done. Hope you enjoy it!


	3. Wordless and Timeless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They kiss... And it's more than they ever would have expected...

Both angel and demon had experienced some semblance of the carnal pleasures that humans took part in. Not being human themselves, these experiences were entirely different for each of them.

For example, Crowley observed and implemented many a carnal act between humans, finding the temptation factor to be what the humans would enjoy most under the right circumstances. He prided himself on giving a lecture about it in Hell once. Although, Ligur had asked some, extremely disturbing, questions that might have made the Marque De Sade blush, or given him a whole other book to fill. (Hard to tell with that one; he’d always kept Crowley guessing.) More often than not, Crowley wasn’t personally involved. He did enjoy the occasional chase, but he often found it more enjoyable to lead them on and then disappear. It tended to rile something up in the humans, that they then sought out relief in other, more devious, ways than he would have imagined.

As for Aziraphale, whenever he would use blessings and miracles to bring people together for holy union, he would sometimes stay, to “make sure it took” as he would explain to Gabriel later. “Really?!” Gabriel would gasp. “But their bodies are so hideous.” Aziraphale would spin something out of _that_ to make Gabriel wince and, ultimately, leave him alone. Which is how he preferred it, being left to his own devices. The truth was he liked the look of passion in their eyes. In all the world, he’d not seen that kind of joy in any other thing before. It was a very singular experience, and one he liked to witness. What he never told another being, angel or demon or human, was that he had kissed humans before and found it to be wonderfully fun. Aziraphale, for his part in it, did his best not to be proud. But he was told, constantly, that he was a good kisser. So, he’d taken it up as a hobby, somewhere around the fourteenth century. It was a nice enough pleasant exchange. He’d really put the time in to get better, and it showed. He’d speedily wiped their memories, of course. Initially, he wasn’t sure if the humans could take such direct intimate contact from a holy being. But they seemed to enjoy it, and he always left them with a fond spark in their hearts – so that when they were lonely, it would glow, and remind them of something precious. As far as his own investment in such events, well, it was pleasant enough. Not as special as a finely crafted Italian crème, but certainly more enjoyable than greasy London Chinese food, which it could be said, he still enjoyed immensely when the mood took him.

Had Crowley known he was doing such things, probably would have chided him for being a hedonist. And some part of him knew Crowley to be right. Which is why he never said.

But, when Aziraphale and Crowley’s lips touched, it was like nothing either of them had ever experienced before. It was not the terrifying thrill of the swap. It was not the fall for Crowley, nor the horror of being discorporated for Aziraphale. It could not even be described as pleasant, or lovely, or delectable. It was something entirely wordless and timeless. Aziraphale felt a rolling desire blossom in his stomach, the likes of which he’d never known. Crowley felt transported. He was everywhere and nowhere and his consciousness almost left him completely.

Crowley groaned into Aziraphale’s mouth, the first to open his lips, and plunged his tongue into his angel, hungrily seeking out as many flavors as he could. He typically wasn’t one for appetites for most things, and yet…

Aziraphale seemed to come back to his senses first. His eyes fluttered open as he realized he had climbed onto the bed with Crowley pressed against, and between, his own legs. His hands clenched into the demon’s hair, and his chest heaved gently with Crowley’s ragged breaths. The kiss remained unbroken.

Crowley was a demon drowning. He was in space, and in Aziraphale’s arms, and in the Bentley. He was in Satan’s throne room, and with Ligur and Hastur when they used to go hunting. He was tucking Warlock in to sleep and having tea with Aziraphale as Francis the gardener, at opposite ends of the table to avoid suspicion. He was everything and nothing. He only vaguely registered his body. Pretty much that he lips were dry, and scratchy but Aziraphale wasn’t stopping. His too tight jeans somehow were getting tighter. The lightening was there and it was like a storm all around him. There could have been a tornado, but he would have kept kissing Aziraphale until the end of it all, until time genuinely stopped.

They both slowed their kisses and breathing at the same time. Crowley opened his eyes and was startled to see Aziraphale’s already open, watching him. Aziraphale’s cheeks went a lovely shade of pink. Crowley froze, briefly, and then pulled away. He was still in Aziraphale’s embrace, but just allowing a bit of distance.

He tried twice to speak, swallowing convulsively and licking his lips. “I-I, uh, I haven’t ever…”

Aziraphale’s surprised face as now turning red. “Never?”

Crowley shrug with a little half smile. “Not like this anyway.”

Aziraphale smiled wider, and bumped noses. “I have kissed people,” he confessed, a little shyly. “But no. No, definitely not like this,” and his sigh tickled the hairs along Crowley’s neckline, sending a shiver that made him gasp. “I had meant to go slower than this, my dear. You seem to break down my resolve at every turn.” And he smiled, but it was sweet and wholesome, like a million million smiles just for Crowley.

Crowley wanted to hide his face but there was no where to go. His bravado was nearly gone from him, when he eyed the box, now somewhat forgotten on the end table. “I think we both deserve a chocolate for that one, don’t you?” he said, his breath still uneven, his eyes wide.

Aziraphale nodded, “I think you’re right.” He reached over, deftly opening the box with one hand and plucked two chocolates from the casing. In a giddy fit, he placed one of them between his teeth to over to Crowley, who raised and eyebrow, but came in for it, none the less. This was not the kiss it was, but the hungry in both of them was electric and Crowley’s tongue gave small licks to the inside of Aziraphale’s mouth before hooking the chocolate into his own. Aziraphale shuddered. “Well yes, definitely a job well done.” And he popped the other chocolate into his mouth. “How was the um,” and he averted his eyes, wishing he didn’t have to ask. “I mean to say was … was it still… unpleasant?”

Crowley nearly choked on the chocolate. “For Go-uh-Satan’s sake, no! It was wonderful!”

Aziraphale watched him carefully. “Crowley, this only works if you don’t lie to me.”

Crowley glared at him. “Don’t kill the mood, Angel. But alright fine, yes, there was discomfort, but I pushed though it – I wanted to push through it. It was my choice, and I made it, and I don’t regret it at all.” His face fell a little. “Do you?”

“No! No, nothing like that. I just don’t want to hurt you. If we’re both going to abandon all reason like that, it’s best that we talk… Way more I think, about this kind of thing."

"Could we do it again, or even…”

“Yes?”

“Or even, progress ye know, move on…. If you want, if it works. I can take it or leave it.

Aziraphale smiled, taking his hands. “I very much want – This very much works. I was so hoping you’d say that, Crowley.”


	4. Meticulousness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley finds the strength to ask what he wants.

Aziraphale could have written a book on the art of kissing. That is, before Crowley.

The demon influenced him to rewrite his entire technique overnight.

Having far more time than they knew what to do with, they practiced for hours in Aziraphale’s bookshop, usually with the shop part closed and the flat in back perfectly serviceable for their experiments.

Quick pecks when they passed each other from room to room, long kisses before bed, and Aziraphale’s favorite, Crowley’s wake up nips on his throat to start the day. During one particularly breathless evening, Crowley broke free, smiling like a fiend when Aziraphale chased his mouth. “More, Angel?” he asked with a quiet confidence.

Aziraphale crashed into him, forehead to his chest, knuckles white clutched at his jacket. “N-Not fair,” he said, shutting his eyes tightly. But he composed himself rather quickly.

When he was upright enough, Crowley said “I have … a request,” and his eyes sparkled.

(They had talked about Crowley having trouble asking for what he wanted. For a fairly courageous demon, the only one he seemed rather shy around was Aziraphale. Being more than happy to provide for the angel, he tended to use that as an excuse to rob himself of the chance to ask for things. Aziraphale became adamant that he stops this foolishness. “Don’t force it,” he’d said. “But I’d like to think, if you need anything, want anything, you trust me enough to ask.”)

Aziraphale’s eyes brightened and he sat pitched forward. “Anything, my dear.”

Crowley smiled, shy. “I was wondering, if you wouldn’t mind, if it’s not too much trouble –”

“It’s not,” said Aziraphale. “Whatever it is, please, ask it. I’ll give it gladly.”

Crowley’s smile widened and his eyes rested on the floor. “You’ve been so good with me. So patient with the … the touching. I wondered if I could… touch your wings?”

Aziraphale’s lips parted. “O-Of course!” and all at once his wings were out.

Crowley gave a snort of laughter, but when confronted with the angelic majesty of Aziraphale’s wings, he melted forward into the angel’s chest. He had just enough energy to give him small thoughtful kisses. “Thank you,” he said, and moved back so that Aziraphale could turn around.

Crowley stood up while Aziraphale stayed seated. He was silent, as he moved around the wings at first, just looking at them. Gazing at them. Aziraphale was starting to feel a little silly, until, “o-oh,” a palm gently brushed along the top ridge of his wings, where the light bones were, and caused his eyes to completely close.

“P-Pleasant?” Crowley asked.

“Very,” Aziraphale said his eyes still closed.

Crowley make sure to touch every feather, every joint. At first, the touches were very surface, but soon he found he was able to get a lovely growl out of Aziraphale if he massaged the knots out of the wing joints. He became very thorough.

“When was the last time you had someone –”

“I don’t remember. Not since before the garden, I think.”

Crowley frowned. “That long?” Aziraphale gave another moan as the demon worked out a particularly tough knot in the angel’s back. “Well, now that we’re spending so much time together, I wouldn’t mind making this a regular thing too.” Aziraphale gave a gasp and sucked in a breath. “Am I hurting you?”

“No, no my dear, just a bit tender.” Aziraphale was holding his breath it seemed. This was very stranged. “It feels a bit overly sensitive, a-ah, like… well, like lightening.” Crowley paused. “Please, keep going, don’t stop.”

“As you like,” Crowley said, but his face was scrunched up in thought. “Are you saying you’re also… I mean, you can’t be, your so forward with people. Gently taking them by the hand, helping little old ladies cross the street.”

“Yes, but that’s different. And anyway, you think I’d let any one else touch my wings but you?”

The question hung in the sudden silence. “I never really thought about it. I thought Gariel maybe,” and Aziraphale made a huff at that. “Or Michael? She might have been adept at this, meticulousness.”

Aziraphale shook his head and did his best to breath through a particularly upsetting knot. “Nnno, nope, just left on my lonesome to deal with them. They are quite the handful I don’t mind telling you - ahh!” Crowley dug his elbow into the wing joint and something popped.

“Alright?”

Aziraphale panted for a minute, slumped forward. “Mmhm” was all he could manage before he stood up and flexed his wings a little. “Much better, thank you,” he said, tucking them away and standing to turn around. “I could do yours, you know? If you like?”

Crowley beamed at him and turned to sit, his wings racing themselves out of the small slip in time and space. 

“Ah,” Aziraphale gave an appraising look, as Crowley had done to him. “Magnificent, Crowley. As ever.” The midnight black of the wings was as strong as the very first time Aziraphale had seen them. They never tarnished or crumbled. They were all very special and smart in their placement. 

Aziraphale moved up behind Crowley, so that his stomach was flush to the demons back. “Oh, I like that touch a lot,” Crowley said softly. Aziraphale made a note of it. With each hand, he reached out to each wing and rand his fingers along the pretty cascade of downy softness. They were warm and well cared for, but Aziraphale was determined to show the same kindness.

“Whatcha -” said Crowley, shortly before all the wind was taken out of his as Aziraphale gave him a deep tissue massage that started at his shoulders and worked it’s way into the wing joints, and then up the bones themselves. He was a babbling mess by the time Aziraphale was able to finally massage the feather tips and the wing muscles properly.


	5. Duck A L’Orange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A special dinner for a special request...

Aziraphale came back from the store, his arms full of groceries.

Crowley peaked his head out from behind a bookcase. “Whatcha got there?” he said, an eyebrow raised.

“I thought I’d cook us some dinner to celebrate.” Crowley swaggered over to the parcels, gingerly investigating. “You like duck a l ’orange, don’t you?”

“Quite.”

“It’s your favorite!” Aziraphale huffed. “I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Crowley was instantly suspicious. “Why?”

Aziraphale sighed, “You’ve earned it, isn’t that enough? Can’t I spoil you?” he asked, giving him big eyes.

Crowley leaned his head over from one side to another, still watching him suspiciously. “I suppose. I didn’t get you anything.” He said, as he trotted away.

Aziraphale eyed him as he left, smiling secretively. Calling after him, he added “No need.” He hurried up the stairs.

The meal was scrumptious. Crowley may have been skeptical of Aziraphale’s offering at first, but soon he was cleaning his plate and asking for more. Aziraphale was only too happy to oblige. He’d only needed a few small miracles to help him through the tricky bits, and on the whole, he didn’t think it was a half bad job. The way Crowley unbuttoned his jeans made him smile even wider. Aziraphale chuckled into his wineglass, but his eyes drifting lower to see the color of Crowley’s red boxers.

“Don’t you go getting any funny ideas, your holiness!” Crowley said, winking. “Oy, my eyes are up here, Angel,” he said, smiling at Aziraphale’s blush.

“Funny ideas, aren’t a bad thing,” he said, serving himself a little more sauce. “You know, my dear,” Aziraphale started, wiping his mouth even though there wasn’t a scrap of food to clean away. “I was thinking…” Crowley made an encouraging sound as he chewed. “Did you want to have more… uhm, more contact?”

Crowley swallowed. “How’dya mean?”

“Well, you know, we are always fully clothed, all the time, even when we share the bed.” Crowley’s fork stopped midway to his mouth. “We could try lesser clothes, or even lying together, if you like, completely naked?” And with that he turned his attention to his own food.

Crowley thought on this for a minute. They’d seen each other naked. There was a whole block of decades, it was the style to bath together with your township. Strange business. But easy temptation spots, more or less. “The idea being that we’d… just touch each other more?”

Aziraphale’s upper lip broke into a sweat. He squirmed, doing his best to finished his last bite. “If you like. Or more. Or… uh, I mean, we could just…” Aziraphale was turning a shade of red Crowley had never seen before. Seeing Crowley’s predatory glance, Aziraphale averted his. “It’s a silly idea anyway, I don’t know why I brou–”

“Yes!” Crowley said, reaching across the table to clasp one of the angel’s hands. “No I have been thinking about that as well. About being together with you without our clothes. They’re not invited.”

Aziraphale’s smile broke through, “Really?” he sighed.

“Not a scrap of clothing,” Crowley said, standing.

Aziraphale looked at the dishes, and the state of the kitchen. “But, there’s cake and ice cream!”

“Aziraphale, it can wait.” Crowley pulled the angel into his arms and placed a hand on either side of his face, carefully tucking back some wispy platinum blonde hairs. “Besides,” and he leaned in, breathing above Aziraphale’s lips. “I’ve got all the dessert I want right here.”

The kiss lit a flame in both of them. It was like a candle or a torchlight was there neither had fully known about, or perhaps, hadn’t acknowledged. As perfect as the first kiss, but just as different, and even harder to quantify, this new fire fed off one another until they were both burning. Crowley pulled back first this time. Gasping for air he did not need. “So, bed then?”

“Yes, yes I think so,” Aziraphale said, dragging the demon with him, already loosening his tie.

Once in the bed room, they both made quick work of their clothing. Aziraphale, though excited, was careful, folding his things deftly. Crowley, on the other hand, couldn’t have been more haphazard. His things went flying wildly from his person, discarded into the farthest corners of the bedroom. He was done first, and strutted over to the bed. “How did you want me?” Aziraphale swallowed. Crowley seemed to be wanting him to lead but he was a bit out of his depth. Thankfully, the demon picked up on his angel’s hesitations. He crawled onto the bed, a sultry snake. “I meant the bits, angel. _How_ do you want me?”

“Oh,” Aziraphale gasped. “I’d not really thought about it. However you’re comfortable I suppose?” Aziraphale was down to his socks and garters. “And me, how would you like me?”

Crowley considered that, surveying the angel’s corporation. “Hmm,” he said. “Come here.”

Aziraphale moved over to him. Crowley scooted towards the edge of the bed and held out his arms. Aziraphale sighed, and smiled. He always marveled at how perfectly he fit into Crowley’s arms.

“Angel, let’s just see how it goes.”

Aziraphale bent down to kiss him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter, but the steamy bits were taking a little too long and I wanted to share what I had so far. Steamy bits to come!


	6. Quite Lovely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things steam up in the bedroom...

He crawled onto the bed next to Crowley and they took their usual positions. Facing each other, with Aziraphale's hand on Crowley's cheek, lips inches away. Usually, they kissed until they were sated and slept in each other's arms. 

Tonight, would be different. Tonight was another milestone they could uncover together, and they both felt more than ready.

At first, they just looked at each other. In the quiet, they're movements became organic. A hand trailed down an arm, someone shuddered and nuzzled the other. Eyes trailed down bodies, and watched as the blush moved, chasing it, to hidden, previously unseen, places.

Perhaps yearning for something familiar, Crowley closed the distance and gave his angel a right and proper snog. Panting, Crowley moved back, caressing his face. "Aziraphale." 

"Mmm?" Aziraphale was studying him like a decadent treat. Mischievous eyes smiling at him. "What do you need?"

"You, only you."

"I'm here."

"Would you… touch me, please?" Crowley was starting to shake.

"S'Alright, I've got you." Aziraphale pushed his body next to Crowley's, hot and close. Skin to skin contact was wonderful, and they both sighed, melting into one another. "I'm still not sure of a shape," Aziraphale gasped. But soon his body was using the friction between them to help him form an opinion. "External, oh yes," a kiss landed somewhere. "I want to feel you properly." 

Aziraphale closed his eyes and concentrated on the fact that Crowley was here, warm and alive. That they'd beaten insurmountable odds, and survived unfathomable terrors, but what they shared now was immensely better and more thrilling than any other adventure they'd experienced. He felt Crowley rub up against him, nibbling his neck and ear, whispering encouragement, as a solid cock manifested between his legs. 

Crowley groaned when he felt it. Bobbing between them, like some obscene magic wand, spreading a desire everywhere it went. "Angel, your magnificent," he slurred, grabbing hold and tugging him closer. He bucked his pelvis and rubbed harder against Aziraphale. He'd begun to beg, though even he did not know what for.

The angel smiled and gently pushed Crowley flat onto the bed, climbing on top of him. He settled between Crowley's legs, which the demon hitched up rather nicely. Aziraphale rubbed himself over Crowley's stomach, his cock stiffening, and he groaned, as the tiny red hairs brushed against his newest sensitive limb. He thrust over and over on Crowley's thighs, squeezing his member between them and becoming giddy with the sensation. "My d-dear, how much longer are you going to d-debate?"

"What?" Crowley shook his head to clear it and look at the angel.

"Have you d-decided? Or shall I just cum on your chest?" Aziraphale was sweating, his brow a mess of curls.

"Oh, right," and Crowley's body shifted beneath him, forming a cock of his own. 

"Crowley!" Aziraphale's movements stuttered. "Next time give a little wa-aaah!" And suddenly Crowley had both cocks in his hands, pumping them together, the precum flowing and dripping down their dicks.

"What was that?" Crowley said, a devilish smile on his face.

"Serpent!" Aziraphale admonished, but there was no weight to it.

They stayed like that for a bit. Aziraphale moving through Crowley's hands, cocks dancing together. "Dunno how long I can keep this up, Angel."

"Then don't, my dear." 

Aziraphale laughed. The movement seemed to egg Crowley on even more. Crowley hissed, permission allowing his reserve to crumble, and his hand moved even faster. Aziraphale gasped and rode to match Crowley's rhythm. Soon there were shouts, and Aziraphale fell forward, spilling himself is short jerks, which ended up with him crashing gracelessly into the pillow next to Crowley's face. The demon seemed satisfied with this and, keeping up his movements, finally came next, gripping Aziraphale tightly. Hot cum poured over both of them. Their corporations were a mess of jerks and ticks, movements they'd no control over.

When Crowley finally released him, Aziraphale did collapse. Initially, he attempted to take Crowley with him, but it ended up with the two of them a jumbled silly mass of limbs. "I'm not sure that I, err, did that before."

"I believe the term is… hmm, arrived or finished…" Crowley nestled closer, his arms in wildly different directions.

"I mean, I understood the mechanics of it."

Crowley once told hell had invented sarcasm. This was a lie, but he liked to think he'd perfected it. "How romantic!" he said now, with a bite that Aziraphale must have completely missed in the afterglow of it all.

"The mess is certainly less than ideal, but the rest of it -"

"Angel?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up!" But it was said with care, and Crowley proceeded to make himself comfortable in the angels’ arms. 

Aziraphale happily made room for him and kissed the top of his head. His fingers idly brushed against his arms. “Crowley?”

“What did I say?” But Aziraphale could feel the smile on his chest.

“I know, my dear, but, I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of you. This is all quite lovely. And you’re doing splendidly.” Crowley was quiet for a long time. Aziraphale looked up at the ceiling, settling himself, and letting himself match the slow even motion of the demon’s breathing. Then Crowley kissed his side, and muttered something. “What was that?”

“No one else I’d rather do this with, Angel.”

They both drifted off to sleep.

*

“Crowley?” Aziraphale woke up the following morning to find himself alone in his bed. 

Strange. 

In addition to last night's activities, they’d spent every day at his flat for the last two weeks. He’d been quite used to waking up when Crowley wanted something. Usually a snuggle, or for him to rub his back or his arms. 

His touch sensitivity seemed almost non-existent now, lessening as they got closer. The angel found all of it deeply fulfilling as well, but he kept that to himself. Ultimately afraid he might chase Crowley off. 

Aziraphale sat up and called out again for him. No response. _Odd indeed,_ he thought. 

Closing his eyes, he flexed his rarely used metaphysical muscles and did his best to sense his demonic counterpart. Not anywhere in the flat. 

_ Well _ , he thought. _Perhaps he'd things to do, or plants to admonish._

He got up and went to get the paper and a donut. He sat at his kitchenette, eating and reading, although, his heart just didn’t seem in it today. He walked around his flat. He moved a pile of books from one side of the room to the other. He made the bed, which was not his usual (Crowley enjoyed making the corners even), but once it was done, it looked lovely.

How unused to quiet his flat seemed. The thing was, it wasn’t exactly noisy with the demon here, but now, there were no companionable silences, no pauses in conversation or reading together. His home felt empty and he found this simply wouldn’t do.

He decided to call Crowley and check on him. Surely, that had to be a normal thing to do. Humans were always checking in on friends. But the hesitation seemed rooted in not really knowing where he was or why he left. There had been times, in the last six thousand years, when rendezvous were postponed, or cancelled, but there was always a reason. With them getting so close and seeing each other every day, it was remarkable how quickly Aziraphale had grown used to having Crowley around. No, he simply needed to know his friend was alright. That’s what he told himself, as he dialed the number. 

It wasn’t until he heard the out of service notice on Crowley’s line that he really became anxious. He grabbed his coat and headed over to his flat, doing his best not to fret and worry his hands too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold tight, we're going for a ride...


	7. Errand?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale goes looking for Crowley, after which he gets an unexpected visitor ...

On the way over, he counted clouds, in an effort to try and slow his breathing. It hadn’t helped, but at least he was keeping busy.

The cab left Aziraphale outside of Crowley’s flat. Now, faced with the reality of his, all be it heart-in-the-right-place-but-now-faced-with-brazen-decision-making to come here, he realized he’d not spent a lot of time at Crowley’s flat at all.

Of course, he needed to stay there for the swap to work, and he’d been there once to foist an obnoxious housewarming gift on his old friend when he closed on the place. But never quite this un-announced.

He straightened up, and strode into the building, praying a little that Crowley was ok. That he’d just be watering his plants, or sitting at his very sparse office desk in his unbelievably gawdy chair. _Angel, you thought what? No, I just came here to get a set of clothes to bring to yours_, he imagined him saying, patting a small suitcase. _You were worried, were you,_ and he’d wriggle his eyebrows at him.

He took the elevator up to his floor, the penthouse, and took out his key. After the swap, it seemed only natural they keep a set of each other keys. Crowley had ones for the bookshop, but then, all he ever had to do was snap. Aziraphale supposed he could snap as well, but he was nervous of what state he’d find his demon in. So, we went with the most cautious option. The key clicked into the lock, the knob turned, and he went inside.

“Crowley?” He said, rapping his knuckles on the door. “Hello!?”

The flat was quiet. Could have heard a pin drop. Aziraphale sighed, and made his way in. He called out a few more times, but soon realized it was a futile effort. The demon was not at home.

He wandered around a bit, not really knowing which direction to move in. _Listlessly,_ he thought to himself. _Am I so listless without you, my dear?_

He slumped into said gawdy chair, but soon chided himself into sitting primly on the edge. He looked around at the few objects there. Interestingly enough the phone was still there but was unplugged, and his tape machine was gone completely. There were no signs of a struggle, if there’d been a struggle.

He moved to Crowley’s bedroom. His clothes were indeed somewhat packed away, but in big storage bins and Aziraphale couldn’t understand why. He then moved over to Crowley’s plants, which shuddered, but then sighed when they saw it was him. He’d talked sweetly to them when he’d been over last time, unable to really commit to being angry with Crowley’s pets. “S’ok, I’m here, darlings.” He cooed. He went to pick up the mister and stopped. There was a note stuck to it in a sprawling hand. In Crowley’s hand.

TO MY PLANTS,

I’M AWAY FOR A BIT. ERRAND TO RUN. DON’T WORRY ‘BOUT ME

BE BACK SOON, - C

PS – ENCOURAGE EACH OTHER TO GROW BETTER WHILE I’M GONE

Aziraphale blinked at it for a minute. For one thing, plants didn’t read, and what’s more, Aziraphale refused to entertain the notion that Crowley didn’t know this. For another, they couldn’t very well mist themselves. For a third, why even mention something so soft as not worrying about him to his plants. This had to be a note for him, it just _had _to!

Aziraphale read it again and again. Errand? What errand. Absently, he misted the plants for Crowley, knowing that he’d want them taken care of. _Why wouldn’t he have mentioned an errand? Why even leave a note actually addressed to his plants unless he was…_

Aziraphale dropped the mister.

Crowley would have left a note like this to the one person who could understand why he was being so cryptic. Aziraphale, being that one person, would soon realize that the only reason to be this cryptic, was if Hell was hot on his trail somehow.

It had been nearly six months since their treasonous acts had landed them in hot water, or in Crowley’s case, the hot seat. Aziraphale shuddered to think what Hell might be doing to him right this instant. But he’d be able to handle it, and then he’d come home to him. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind. Everything would be fine, and he shouldn’t worry. As the note told him not to, after all. He’d be back soon.

Aziraphale picked up the mister and put it back. He also put the note back as he found it and locked up behind him. He tried to swallow passed the lump in his throat. He patted himself on the back for waiting until he was safely inside the cab before a tear rolled down his cheek.

*

“Oh, hello.” The angel whipped around after locking up his bookshop to see the archangel Michael standing there, arms crossed, practically leaning on one of his bookshelves.

“Aziraphale.”

“What brings you to London?”

“Small talk was never your strong suit. I came to give you your new assignment.”

“Beg pardon?”

She moved over to him, with the refinement of a spider. “I’m just the messenger, Aziraphale. You’re being called back to head office.” She leaned towards him, smiling as he was repulsed away. “I told them not to bother, that you were perfectly fine down here with your boyfriend and your _humans,_ but they seemed to think it was urgent.”

Aziraphale breathed carefully and looked Michael over with his the most horrid glare he could muster. “I don’t have to answer to any of you anymore,” he said, low and menacing. He did his best to puff up his shoulders and advance on her.

To his great relief, she did take a step back. “Just the messenger, Aziraphale. I’ll – I’ll be going.” She did leave, swiftly, but not before leaving an envelope with a gold seal on it on his desk.

Aziraphale waited until he was completely alone and then let out the breath he’d been holding. The bluff had worked. But the joy he felt at that moment was short lived, as he saw what she’d left for him. Garbiel’s seal. The lump he’d been wrestling with seemed to truly drop at that moment, and he broke open the seal on the envelope to read it.

The note was strange. It was written by someone who likely was one of Gabriel’s underlings. “A commendation?” Aziraphale mumbled. He had to read it a couple of times, before he decided he would politely decline.

“You have to understand,” he said, clearly praying to God in his usual stance later that night. Crowley sometimes made fun of him for still praying after all this time, but he insisted that she listened to him. She just never answered, and most of the time, that was alright. Besides, the last time they spoke, she had sounded rather disappointed that he’d “lost” his flaming sword. “I’m still faithful. And I know you’re will in ineffable, and that you do everything for a reason. If you were cross with me, I’d already know.” And he swallowed. “But I’m afraid I’m going to have to … well, quite heaven. I’ll still be an angel, if you – you will have me,” a small part of him waited for the smiting that didn’t come. “Thank you,” he said, and sighed in relief. “And wherever Crowley is, please, I know you continue to watch over him. Please bless and keep him. Amen.”

Now, all he had to do, was figure out how to explain it to the other angels that, if he wasn’t fired, he was quitting. _Well, that was a problem for tomorrow,_ he thought, as he crawled into his cold empty bed and did his best to not think about where Crowley was and if he was ok.


	8. I quit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphle faces his angels...

Aziraphale woke up the following morning, half expecting to have Crowley next to him, perhaps an arm haphazardly thrown over him in a protective gesture while he slept.

But no. Still gone.

“Crowley, I do hope you’re alright.” Aziraphale sighed as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, rubbing his hands over his face. He said, another whispered prayer as he put on his clothing for the day.

The bus was late bringing him to heaven’s front door. The escalator was stuck, so he had to walk it. For a moment, he couldn’t tell if he was doing these little things without realizing it, or if God was showing her power in the smallest of ways, as was her want.

Either way, it seemed to him that he didn’t even need to be there. As far as he was concerned, he didn’t need to be anywhere heaven asked him to be. But, he felt obligated to answer when they called, at least this one last time.

Michael “greeted” him at the top of the escalator. “Aziraphale,” she said, nodding.

“Yes, Michael, so nice to see you again so soon.”

She turned on her heel, as if he’d not said a word, and led him into the main room. “Gabriel will be with you shortly,” and she closed the doors behind her.

Aziraphale sighed, swaying on his feet a little. All the white stung his eyes now. Again, he questioned why he was even here. He probably could have just sent them a note. He was trying to decide if he shouldn’t leave, when “Ah, Aziraphale!” Gabriel said, spreading his arms wide and then clapping them together. “So good to have you.”

“Gabriel, nice to see you, but –”

“We’ve reserved the best seat in the house for you.” Gabriel came up next to him and, crooking a finger, bid him follow. He ushered him over to a smallish table on the side that Aziraphale assumed was miracled there for him special. “You get to oversee all of earths conflicts from here now, and look,” he made some hand gestures on the windows, “We even added a picture in picture.”

Aziraphale had to admit to himself that he was a little amazed with the process, for exactly four seconds. But he shook his head and inclined it politely. “Gabriel, we need to talk.”

Gabriel’s smile at him faltered. “Talk? What’s there to talk about?”

“Well, for one thing, you think I’m here to accept your commendation. I’m terribly afraid that you’ve misinterpreted my visit.”

“What are you talking about? We can negotiate all of that later, but I’m here to help welcome you! We’re all just… happy to have you and can’t wait to get back to work!”

He put a hand on Aziraphale’s back and the angel recoiled as if he was struck by a lightning bolt. “I’m not back! I’ll never be back, I-I came here to talk to you!”

“Aziraphale,” Gabriel said, the smile finally gone, flinching a little as the principality moved away from him. “I don’t understand.”

“And you never have, Gabriel, not once!”

The archangel stiffened, his hands coming to clasp in front of him. “Well, what is it?”

Aziraphale panted, feeling a bit like a cornered animal. This was exactly what he hadn’t wanted. He was hoping to be civil about this, but as he looked around himself, he winced at the light and the brightness all over. The pristine-ness of it all, grated on his nerves in a way he’d never truly admitted before. He now supposed, that after all this time, this was why he was such a slob in the bookshop and in most aspects of his life. Why he always thought of himself as… unclean. How can you not, really, when there isn’t even dust in heaven?

He swore he could still feel Gabriel’s touch, like a brand on his back, and he shivered, wishing his demon was somehow by his side.

Quite immediately, he realized how little he wanted to be here. To be in Gabriel’s company, to be in heaven, all of it; he very much wanted out as fast as possible. He wanted to go home. This was not his home. Not anymore.

“Gabriel,” he said, clearing his throat and straightening up. “I apologize, but you’ve made assumptions, and I-I’d like to start over.” With a snap, he was instantly holding a box full of sundries, a few metals, some old photographs and sketches. He hefted it, checking over it briefly, before placing it down next to him. “Gabriel. Thank you, very much, for thinking of me for this great honor. But. I’m afraid I have to decline.”

“De-cline?” Gabriel asked, as if he didn’t know the meaning of the word.

“Yes, not that I’m not flattered. You see, I’ve only just realized. I _hate_ it here!” Aziraphale could feel himself smiling with the weight being lifted from that small statement, even as Garbiel’s face fell. That wasn’t quite right – No, especially, as Gabriel’s face fell. “Yes, that’s it completely. I’ve not been happy here for some time, and I know this might come as a shock, but … I quit.”

Gabriel’s eyes flashed, “I’m sorry, what was that?”

Aziraphale picked up his box. “I quit, Gabriel. Thank you for … Well, just thank you.”

As he walked away, he worried that someone might try to stop him. He imagined Michael coming out from behind a pillar, or Sandalphon turning him into salt, regardless of if he turned around or not.

But no one came for him.

It was quiet, all the way back down into the lobby, into the street, onto the bus, and back to his shop. He smiled to himself, as he put the key in the lock and went inside. He turned, meaning to put the box on his desk, when suddenly Crowley was there in front of him.

He was so startled he dropped the box with a little “oh”, which Crowley caught, deftly.

“Lucky I was here, eh, angel?” he said, a smile completely overwhelming his face.

Aziraphale couldn’t move. “H-How? Where have you – What are you doing, what did you – ”

“All very good questions,” Crowley said, placing the box somewhere that wasn’t his arms so that he could wrap them around the angel. “But right now, I’m afraid I absolutely must kiss you, or else I’ll cease to exist.”

Aziraphale wasn’t sure if he was kidding or not. Best not the take chances though, as he let the demon embrace him and their lips nuzzled each other, warmly. Someone smiled. Likely both of them, and Aziraphale sighed into his arms. Home, yes.


	9. The Day Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley makes a deal

**The Day Before Yesterday**

Crowley woke up first. He always woke up first.

He watched Aziraphale sleep for a while, his brow wrinkled with troubled thoughts, until Crowley laid a gentle hand over his cheek to coax him back to sweeter dreams. He was never sure if the angel knew he watched over him. He liked to think he didn’t mind.

He smiled to himself, stretched, yawned, and then reluctantly padded downstairs to put the kettle on. He thought he’d bring Aziraphale some breakfast in bed. It was a lovely plan.

Pity he never got to finish it.

“I believe you go by… Crawley?”

Crowley stiffened. He knew that voice from the swap, and from the Armageddon that didn’t… and from his time up in Heaven. “I-It’s Crowley, actually. I had it changed.”

He half-turned to see Gabriel sitting, knees knocking together, at Aziraphale’s small kitchen table and chairs. In Aziraphale’s seat. There was only enough room for two, and Gabriel was not invited. Sullying Aziraphale’s things was apparently enough to cause the demon’s blood to boil, but, the angel was still asleep, and he didn’t want to cause any undue fuss. He turned back to the tea, attempting an air of dismissal.

“Ah, our records must be out of date,” the archangel spat, pointedly not looking at him. “Well, you’ve certainly made yourself a nice little _happy home _here, haven’t you?” Gabriel asked, the disdain clear.

“And, to what do we owe the visit of the great archangel Gabriel?”

“_We?_” and Gabriel to frown at the wall.

Crowley swallowed. _Whoops,_ he thought. “What is it you want?” Crowley leaned on the sink, popping a hip.

“Direct. To the point. I like that. Perhaps something you could teach that counter-part still asleep in bed.” Crowley didn’t move a muscle, only regarded Gabriel with his snake-fire eyes. The effect was somewhat diminished by the silk pajama bottoms, Tartan pattern of course, but he did his best to be menacing. Gabriel gave a small smirk at his silence. “Aziraphale doesn’t really care about you, you know that, right? He’s just doing this because you’re here. If he didn’t have you as a distraction, he’d still be an agent of heavenly light.”

“You have no idea what Aziraphale is, and you never have.”

“I know what he needs. And I know it isn’t coddling. He’s always been soft, you’re making him softer.”

“Soft?” Crowley laughed, he couldn’t help himself. “He told me about his _time_ upstairs. You call that _soft_?” And he glared at Gabriel, practically daring him to say otherwise.

Gabriel blinked rapidly, clearing his throat. “Quite frankly, it’s obscene. He can’t carry on here… with you.”

“Oh, can’t he?”

“That’s right. It’s not done. It’s puts to shame everything either side has worked for.”

“Oh, so _that’s_ what this is? Are you worried angels and demons will shack up together and stop this ridiculous feud? Has June begun bustin’ out all over?”

Gabriel, finally, turned his lilac gaze to Crowley, his eyes tired, but angry somehow. “He’ll leave you eventually, you know. He’ll get bored or interested in something else, and poof, he’ll be back where he belongs. The minute you’re unreachable, he’ll come back to us.”

Crowley swallowed. “That’s not even remotely true.”

“Isn’t it?” Gabriel asked, his head tilted slightly. “Care to wager?”

“I don’t even know why I’m still talking to you – get out.”

Gabriel stood, buttoning his coat. “I think you think I’m right. Crowley, I’m here to make you a deal.”

Crowley sighed, and put his hands on his hips. “Why on earth, or heaven, or hell, would you think I’d entertain –”

“Take it, and if you win, I can promise, you’ll never be bothered by either side again.” Crowley went supernaturally still, and Gabriel smiled at him. The smile was grotesque, but it made his point. He examined his hands closely for a moment before continuing. “The two of you can live out your eternal lives here, on earth, with the humans you seem to care so much about. With your drinking and your eating,” at this he turned a little green. “But, if you fail my little test, or, more importantly, if _he_ fails, well, I get to have both of you.”

Crowley raised up to his full height. “Lord Beelzebub would never agree to –”

“Oh, we’ve been talking, and um, yes, yes Lord Beelzebub would.”

Crowley swallowed again; his mouth dry. “Your terms?”

Gabriel clapped his hands. “Well, it’s ingenious, if I do say so myself. One of my better schemes, as it were. You – this is rich – you _disappear_.”

“I, sorry – I what?”

“Yes, you, just for a little bit, you sort of cease to exist. And he’ll be left alone. I’ll invite him back, and well, we’ll see if he shows up, won’t we?”

Crowley considered this. “Where will I go?”

Gabriel smiled again, the first genuine one Crowley’d ever seen on his face. “Into the nether space to wait. Don’t look so scared. If Aziraphale is the angel you say he is, you’ll be dropped right back to him, as soon as he’s come back here. But if he stays… You’ll be _stuck there_, forever.” Gabriel was enjoying this far too much.

Crowley looked up at the ceiling. “I trust him,” he said. “I don’t trust you.”

Gabriel nodded, as if he expected that. Without warning, his wings materialized. They were a tinted grey, with flashes of blue. “Have a feather to know I mean what I say,” and he handed it to Crowley. “Surely you remember the importance of imparting a feather to another… celestial being.”

Crowley took it between thumb and fore-finger. “I do.”

“Then you know I’m serious. And an angel of my word.”

“If he denies you and turns his back on heaven, then –”

“Then you and he will be free of us. Both of us. Forever.”

Crowley had to admit it was a tempting deal. Free from heaven _and_ hell? He was fighting the giddiness of the whole idea. Wouldn't it be lovely to simply be worry free for a bit, genuinely worry free. Their swap had done a number on both sides, definitely made them question the whole business. But this seemed very much like a win-win because… well because…

There was a nugget of doubt. After six millennia of Aziraphale always siding with heaven, always thinking his side was better, was holier, was the “right” side to be on –

It did beg the question, had he truly committed to _their_ side, instead of either heaven or hell at this point. Crowley shook his head. No, he would be fine. And Aziraphale would be fine. And they’d laugh about it later.

Crowley nodded. “I agree to your deal, Gabriel. My only regret is that I won’t see your face when you realized we’ve won.”

Gabriel leaned close. “We shall see.”

He was about to snap when Crowley halted him, momentarily. “Wait, wait, I’ve got to do something first, won’t be a moment!” Gabriel huffed, but nodded. With a snap of his own, Crowley was gone for about thirty seconds. “Alright, alright, ready!”

Gabriel frowned at him. “Where did you go?”

“Oh, just had to water my plants. Go on, off I pop!”

Gabriel continued frowning, as Crowley watched him snap and then felt weightless in darkness. He was floating, never quite finding ground. He silently thanked someone that he wasn’t seasick. _Here goes nothing,_ he thought. He’d not prayed in a long time. But he prayed while he was in there.

Time didn’t really exist in the nether space. It wasn’t really a place to be, exactly. It could have been years or seconds, he had no way of knowing. He quietly sung queen songs to himself for as long as he could think of songs and lyrics. When he ran out, he started all over again.

Then, suddenly, he felt something solid. Floor. Familiar smell of papers and book-binding. Musty scent of books. A smile appeared on his face before he felt entirely corporeal then he heard his angel humming as he came in the front door of his shop. Every cell in his being sang Aziraphale’s name, but even now he played it cool as he caught the box that the angel dropped.

Kissing Aziraphale was like the ocean crashing on the shore. He was here, he was alive and whole again. But it wasn’t his arrival back on earth that told him this. It was his angel’s arms wrapped around him, and his quiet happy gasps that made his homecoming so much more special.

“Let’s go to bed, Angel, and you can tell me all about it.”

“Yes, oh please yes,” Aziraphale was flushed and breathless. “I’ve not felt quite right without you, my dear.”

Crowley smiled wider, which he didn’t think it was possible. “I assure you, the feeling is very much mutual.”


	10. Stupid Lump

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys get comfortable, and Crowley fills Aziraphale in.

Crowley got into bed first, falling backwards, his long legs dangling over the edge. “Oh, yes, I’ve missed this,” he said, his hands moving on the bed spread. “D’ya know, I don’t think I’ve had a good night’s sleep in six thousand years, till I was in your bed.”

Aziraphale gapped at him. “Crowley, you’re the best sleeper I know. Practically an Olympian, if they recognized it as a sport.”

“I know, I know, but that doesn’t mean I can’t advance.” He was smiling. His mouth was all teeth, and he took off his glasses and put them on the nightstand. “Well, come here already!” Aziraphale was fussing with his clothes. “Clothes and all, I don’t care, I just need to be near you right now.”

Aziraphale looked up. “Where did you go? I thought Hell was after you.”

“… Angel, please.”

Aziraphale walked over to the bed and knocked their knees together. “Was it terrible?”

“Yes,” Crowley whined, putting on a show. “I’m absolutely exhausted from the whole ordeal.” He sat up and clung to Aziraphale’s hips, burying his face in the angel’s stomach.

The angel gave a soft “oh” sound, but put his hands in Crowley’s hair and clucked his tongue at him. Eventually, he put a finger under his chin. “I was worried, I’ll not be mocked for it.”

Crowley swallowed, as Aziraphale’s pale eyes gazed at him. He couldn’t keep them, not with the questioning and worry, so he dropped his own. “I’m alright, Angel. We can talk about it soon but I need – that is, I thought you’d want –” Crowley tried to swallow passed a lump that was suddenly there. “I just want you here, with me. I’ll tell you all about it, but first, please, Angel, come to bed.”

“Of course, my dear. Of course.”

They got into their usual positions, only this time Crowley was curled against his angel tighter than before. With his face hidden in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, he was able to leave gentle plaintive kisses there.

Which was new. It’s not that the angel didn’t like it. In fact, it was titillating, exhilarating. Though, he wasn’t sure that was the desired effect. He just wanted to let Crowley do whatever he wanted, while he gathered his strength to explain. That is, until Crowley sighed, making Aziraphale shudder. That was, more or less, what eventually gave the angel a moment to be impatiently brave.

“Alright, my dear. Either give me proper kisses, or tell me what happened.” Aziraphale kept his glance directed at the ceiling.

Crowley propped himself up, leaning on his arm for support. “I’m thinking,” and he leaned over to kiss Aziraphale’s jawline.

“You’re stalling.” Aziraphale said, turning his body to face his demon. “Are you truly alright?”

“Aziraphale, come here.”

“For what?”

Crowley seemed to think on it, then, “Let me kiss you properly?”

Aziraphale smiled wider. “Please,” he breathed, already leaning in.

*

It could be said that when one kisses their beloved, every kiss is new. But kissing like this brought a desire in both of them that was, most assuredly, different.

Aziraphale, feeling finally free of heaven’s nonsense, was able to really and truly abandon all pretense and pour himself whole-heartedly into the act. Crowley, also feeling the intense sense of freedom, responded in kind. They were, both, locked in a sea of perfection, that neither really had words for.

It started slowly, but it didn’t stay slow. Grabbing and gasping at each other, they made quick work of their clothing, lying beside each other naked.

Aziraphale moved his kisses to Crowley’s cheek and down to his neck. After giving a deep breath in, he bit hard on the spot where Crowley’s shoulder met, and listened as the demon panted.

“Angel!” He growled.

Aziraphle moaned with a mouth full, sucking and licking at the skin.

“Ssss’going to leave a mark!” he clutched at his angels’ head. Aziraphale seemed to pause and relent, but Crowley clawed at his back. “Make it a good one!” he said, as he pressed himself against the line of Aziraphale’s body, trying to get some relief.

The angel picked up on the movement quickly, and squirreled a hand between them, rubbing the demon, all the while cleverly licking and sucking his shoulder. He sucked him harder when he felt the most perfectly moist hollow between the Crowley’s legs. Without pause, he pressed the wetness there, and then brought his fingers, to and fro, checking the folds for the best possible angle.

“Yes, Angel, there, you’re so good at tha-ah, there please, yes up, up there!”

He rubbed him in slow circles, finally relenting on his shoulder. The mark was lovely, already a deep red that threatened to turn purple. Licking his lips, he couldn’t help but grind himself down on Crowley’s raised leg. “Anything for you, Crowley, my dear. Look at you! You’re so hot and wet and perfect.”

“Angel! I – Angel, please!”

“What do you need?” Crowley could barely see, let alone speak. The blissful fingers worked him so expertly that his eyes began to water. Abandoning speech entirely, he grabbed at the angel’s hand and thrust it harder, positioning him to enter Crowley’s vessel and shoved until the Aziraphale got the message, with three fingers deep. Aziraphale crowed, “Yes, take what you want, my dear. It’s yours. If I have it to give, even if I don’t have it. I’ll find it. Yours, always yours as long as you want it; as long as you want me.”

“Aziraphale –”

Aziraphale quickened his pace. “Shh, no need for words, I know what you need.”

Crowley came, spasming around Aziraphale’s hand, as it drove him. Towards the end of the tumultuous orgasm, Aziraphale rubbed his clit with expert pressure, at the same time, letting his other hand move down his chest, grazing a nipple, and the aftershock nearly had Crowley flipped off the bed.

“Oh, there you are, it’s alright, I’ve got you.” Aziraphale smiled proudly. “Long way from brushing my knuckles over lunch, nary a word in sight. I’m so proud of you, Crowley.”

Crowley had become soup in the bed. He pawed at Aziraphale to come lay in his arms and thankfully, the angel seemed to get the memo. Crowley dozed a little, never quite sleeping deep enough, as Aziraphale stroked his face and his hair, laying gentle perfect kisses on his body.

*

They laid facing each other. Crowley had been trying to help Aziraphale find release, but the angel kept stilling him. “I’d rather talk, if that’s alright?”

Crowley swallowed. _Stupid lump, where did that come from? _“It wasn’t bad, Angel. I-It wasn’t Hell, actually. Well, not directly, anyway. It was Heaven.”

Aziraphale clutched at his shoulder. “Heaven, are you sure?” he nearly sat up, but Crowley kept him down.

“Gabriel showing up?” He made a face as if he was considering. “Yea, pretty big hint.”

“Oh, good lord!” Aziraphale’s free hand went to his own face. “How did you escape? Where were they holding you? Oh, I wish I’d known, I would have done something, I was there! I came, and I could have done _something_ to get you out!”

“It’s alright, I’m, I’m alright!” Crowley cooed. “I promise. Better than alright.” _What did he just say?_ “You, uh – you went up _there_, though, eh?” He was having trouble breathing; the lump was bigger now.

“Well, I – yes, they wanted to do something for me. Some kind of promotion.” Aziraphale seemed to be checking Crowley’s body for injuries.

“A p-promotion? Really? And you… You accepted?”

“No!” The lump disappeared, and Crowley slumped forward, leaning his forehead on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Of course, I didn’t! I – Actually I went up there to quit.”

“You wot?”

“I quit heaven.”

Crowley’s head snapped back so quickly to look at his angel, he was glad he wasn’t human. “What about being an angel, a-an agent of heavenly light?”

“An agent of – Crowley, where on earth did you hear _that_?”

The response was a mumbling sigh. “Gabriel might have mentioned it.”

Aziraphale starred, but his lips were twitching upward the more he looked at Crowley with something that resembled adoration. “I’m still me, Crowley – I mean, I suppose without the heavenly resources, and the paperwork.” The smile that Aziraphale could not keep to himself any longer, shown brightly with that thought. “But yes, I went up there to, well, uhm, tell them off!” He was suddenly very interested in Crowley’s shoulder as he tried not to be proud.

It was like all those many years ago, standing on the walls of Eden, watching as the first humans went out into the wilderness to make their own way. It was then Crowley realized that Aziraphale was one of the few beings in existence he would never ever leave. Because this was who the Principality was. He was an angel that believed in justice and the right thing, but always wanted to make sure it was also done properly. Where Crowley used to think that got him into more harm than good, it would appear that the angel had already cut out the middle man by quitting heaven, finally realizing his true potential. Proved his point, as it were, when he finally saw that heaven always was holding him back, instead of lifting him up, and cut ties.

Crowley beamed at him, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but blush. He was still all smiles when he asked “W-what about Her, y’know?”

“Well, I had to mention it to the Almighty first, didn’t I?” he made himself more comfortable, drapping Crowley’s arm more securely around him to get closer. “She didn’t seem to mind, since I still seem to be in, urhm, one piece.”

“One of my favorite pieces, Aziraphale. You’re always perfect just as you are. My courageous holy boyfriend, you!”

Aziraphale froze. “Beg pardon?”

“Hmm?”

“Go back.”

“Back to what?”

“Repeat that last bit.”

“Holy best friend?”

“Crowley!”

“What?!”

Aziraphale was laughing now, unable to keep up the fight when Crowley was being far too kissable and within range. He rolled them both over so that Crowley could rest on top of him. “How’s the view?”

“Lovely, angel.” He purred, coming back down for another kiss.

Aziraphale was incapable of not smiling. “I take it you’re not going to sleep until I’m seen to?”

Crowley shook his head. “I’ll stay up and sing, till you let me.”

“Good lord, can’t have that, now can we?”


End file.
